


Pieces of a Chess Game, Missing Scenes

by BethRG



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 02:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15764634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BethRG/pseuds/BethRG
Summary: Missing Scenes from "Pieces of a chess game" that did not make the final cut as they do not further the narrative. Funny, unconnected snippets of life in Baker Street. You can expect Mycroft, Sherlock, Hermione, Sirius, John, Mary, and maybe some HP characters.





	1. Index

**Pieces of a Chess Game: Missing Scenes**

Chapter 1: "The pairing conundrum"

Chapter 2: "A Midnight confession"

Chapter 3: "The latte conspiracy" 


	2. The pairing conundrum

**Chapter 1: The pairing conundrum**

She had done it again.

He whipped his head to Hermione. She was lying on the couch, her tablet in her hands, comfortably enjoying the sun coming from the window on her bare feet. But he did not mind that, although he still was trying to get accustomed to seeing her around the flat. What was unnerving him to no end, was the poorly concealed laughs he had been subjected to for the past half an hour. First, because he did not like not knowing. Second, because he had an inkling that whatever she was reading, it might have something to do with him.

"What it's so amusing?"

Hermione turned her head to him. "I have discovered a new section on the webpage of your little fan club."

He rolled his eyes, but then he looked at her again, waiting for more. He saw how eyes trailed along his dress shirt, and then she burst in a fit of laughs. Sherlock crossed his arms in front of him, cocking an eyebrow in her direction. She wiped her tears and gave him a saucy smile.

"Do you know what 'Johnlock' is, Sherlock?"


	3. A midnight confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Here is a new snippet. Withing "Pieces of a chess game", it would be between "The empty hearse" and "The sign of three". Enjoy!

**Chapter 2: A midnight confession.**

Hermione padded barefooted towards the kitchen and turned the light on. According to her watch, it was close to 3 in the morning. She rested her elbows on the countertop and put her hands over her eyes, pressing lightly. It had been months since she last had a nightmare as vivid as the one that awoke her. She swore she could feel the cold and humidity from the North Sea seeping into her bones. And the stone walls standing tall around her, trapping her in an inexpugnable cage, suffocating her. Just remembering the dream quickened her breath, and had to brace her to the edge of the counter to anchor her to reality.

"What are you doing up?"

Her eyes snapped open and looked towards the sitting area. Lost in her thoughts, she had not seen Sherlock in his chair. He was still fully dressed in his suit, legs crossed and long fingers stapled under his chin, the flames dancing in his eyes.

"Sherlock, I am going to tie a bell around your neck, I swear."

He looked at her but did not say anything. Hermione sighed and took a seat in the other armchair, curling in on herself. Resting her head on the back, she turned her head to gaze into Sherlock.

"I had a nightmare."

"Mmm." Sherlock uncrossed his legs and rested his arms on the rests. His usual working stance."What about?"

"I dreamt about being trapped." He cocked an eyebrow, the question implicit. "In Azkaban."

Sherlock frowned."What is Azkaban?"

"It's the wizarding prison. An awful stone castle-like prison in the middle of the sea. It's remote, dark, cold, almost unmanned." A chill crept along her spine and goosebumps covered her arms. "In another time, it was the worst thing you could threaten someone with. I think it is still."

They fell in a silent companionship. Hermione had her eyes fixed on the fireplace. Sherlock, on the other hand, was observing her. He was not used to someone letting him see some weakness. _Not weakness_ , John's voice said in his head, _vulnerability_. He has seen _that_ in others, under thousands of different circumstances. But no one had ever let him see it in private. No one had ever trusted him that much.

"Tell me about it."

Hermione turned to him, confused. "Why do you care?"

"Who says I do?"

She smiled. "So is it mere curiosity?"

He shrugged, pretending disinterest. Hermione gazed him a for an instant and started.


	4. The latte conspiracy

**The latte conspiracy.**

"Obviously, everyone gets to wait but Sherlock bloody Holmes" John sighed and sat on a lab stool, watching Molly get rid of the examination gloves. Lestrade had arrived before him with the body the pathologist had just examined. John had come to an open chest cavity but not Sherlock, who had cited him there. Nothing new under the sun. Half an hour had gone past since that, and the doctor did not know who he wanted to kill more: if Sherlock for being an inconsiderate bastard, or Lestrade, for arrhythmically tapping on his small notebook with the back of a pen.

The sound of double doors opening made them turn and watched Sherlock coming into the room with his coat flowing behind him, and a coffee in his hand.

"Well, look who finally decided to appear."

"Yes, yes, Lestrade."Sherlock rolled his eyes and left the coffee to proceed to get rid of his coat. "I am sorry I ruined your morning meeting with that senior detective you fancy. Not that it's going anywhere, no matter how much cologne you put. She is into younger police officers. Women police officers."

"How…? Never mind" Greg inhaled and opened his notebook. "So Molly, walk us through it?"

"Not yet." Interrupted Sherlock "We are waiting for someone else." He picked the coffee up again, but he did not drink. That's when John noticed the renowned green mermaid displayed on the side of the cup.

"You hate that coffee."

"Not for me" Sherlock merely answered. The door opened again. Hermione, wearing training gear and purple bags under her eyes entered and gave them a tired smile.

"Sorry I kept you waiting, but I was on tactics training and the heartless bitch Mycroft is ordered me to come here, apparently something about an Interpol case…" She let herself drop in a stool. Sherlock put the coffee in front of her. She looked up to his towering figure, surprised.

"Skinny latte, two espresso shots, no sugar. Lukewarm milk. Arabic blend." She opened her mouth but he beat her to it. "Yes, I made sure they poured shots before the milk."

Hermione reached for the cup and smiled brightly at him, thanking him.

Neither of them saw the astonished looks of the other three people in the room.


	5. A Wicked threat

**A Wicked threat**

"Answer me again. Why are we doing this?"  
Hermione was sitting at the breakfast table, biting her raspberry jam toast while reading the newspaper on her iPad.

"I told you, it's Sirius birthday. He always has a get together with… family and acquaintances."

"Neither."

"Then?"

Hermione sighed and flipped a page. "Mycroft has always been invited but he had never come."

She wiped her hands and look at Sherlock.

"And you are there so you can keep me occupied and I don't feel the need to strangle anyone. Or to help me hide the body if I do." She added.

Sherlock, that was in front of her looking through the microscope smiled.

"I can do the latter."

In that moment, the other Holmes entered the kitchen, wearing a smart suit and a proper tie for the event.

"I assume there is a good reason to why you are not dressed yet." Hermione looked at him and took another bite, while his brother did not even bother to acknowledge him. Sighing and rolling his eyes, Mycroft sat at the table. Sherlock lifted his head and looked at Hermione.

"Do they know we are coming?"

"Well, I really hope Sirius has told them."

"I have a gun with me, just in case."  
Hermione gaped at the oldest Holmes. "Mycroft!"

"Brilliant, I'll carry mine as well."

"Sherlock!" Hermione stood up with a loud bang on the table. "Listen to me both of you. We will be in a non-magical neighbourhood. They won't do anything, and neither will you. So no guns, understood?"

When both men arched their left eyebrow in defiance, she could see clearly they were related.

"No guns or so Merlin help me, I'll speak to your parents and tell them that you bought tickets for Wicked with a backstage interview for the four of you to go together. Have I made myself clear?"

The look of resignation and horror in the siblings' face was enough to tell her she had won.


End file.
